Tinker,tailor
by eponay
Summary: Charles and Erik work in England as the heads of MI6. Shaw and Stryker have sworn their loyalty in the interests of the nation. While over in Russia the newly formed brotherhood is seeking to expand its reach, to do so they need a mole. As everything falls apart, Charles searches for the traitor, he turns to the only person he can trust, Raven. cherik. Ensemble. other cameos.
1. Chapter 1

Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy/Xmen.

I saw that movie and saw Xmen. Too much ff me thinks perhaps. But enough of me. Enjoy. The tinker tailor thing is has been altered.

Tags: Au, De-powered, multiple pairings, everyone's there, some violence, minor character death/s, implied relationships, no porn, slash, spies, limping Charles, BAMF!everyone, timelines all messed up: they are older in 1960's (only a bit), spies, glass ceilings, sexism, double agents, mild swears.

So, to make it clear just in case i confuse you later this fic takes place over two years, 1962 and 1963. 1963 is set within two weeks. Erik is the head of MI6, Charles is his second. Expect: Raven, Moria, Emma, Shaw, Stryker, Alex, Sean, Hank, Wolverine, and others as minors. Shaw (still a completely evil former nazi) as a character is split with the Herr Doctor as a separate character being the one who shot Erik's mother. ( I know, know. It's different, but it wouldn't work otherwise.)

_All is betrayal and no one can escape the consequences of its reach, not even those we try to protect. Or basically love's going to bring down the secret service._

xXx Leaving XxX

_**1963 May Tuesday night, the week before. **_

Erik walked down through the Cambridge library and with complete confidence found a less well-known corridor. Without hesitation he continued into a lift. Once inside he inserted a key into the panel and pressed the button for the basement. There was a reason why he didn't come here. Memories of the camps, of the old German with the metal, his mother, flickered like fire before his eyes. The lift opened and Erik walked down the hall, antiseptic lime green paint reflecting his shadow dimly, and his footsteps loud in the empty hall.

"Hank?" Erik called as he opened the lab door. The gloomy exterior of the hall was replaced by a well-lit room. A mathematical formula was scrawled across the blackboard, a clean steel table littered with blue prints. Another door with a glass and mesh windows by the blackboard, that door Erik knew led off to other rooms, with more equipment and occasionally a few carefully chosen grad students, for when Hank needed a hand with something. Tonight however the labs were as deserted as the halls.

Adjusting his glasses Hank looked up in surprise. "Control?" Erik rarely visited the lab, "how can I help you?"

Walking into the lab Erik, observed the plans littered on the tables amidst microscopes and other scientific equipment he couldn't identify, but his attention was drawn by three green vials that sat on the steel sink. Without looking away he demanded, "tell me about the serum."

Hank met his grim eyes uncomfortably. "I've turned it into a tablet." Hank gave his answer almost guiltily. One small powdered green tablet sat alone in a small dish. Erik pocketed the tablet without further conversation.

**XxX**** The Mission XxX**

**_1963, May, Monday, __now__._**

"I need you to do something for me"

Xavier stood and passed her a cup of tea, before turning to speak. How he hated to ask her this. She stood before him clad in a simple grey coat. The room they both stood in was old dusty and filled with disused furniture. A metal chess set by the window. No one lived here, now, but someone had once. Who? Mystique thought as she glanced around the room old photos lined up on the mantel, was that Charles in one of them? She looked like she wanted to ask, but sometimes it did not pay to be curious. Raven returned her gaze to meet Xavier's cold serious, almost uncomfortable expression.

"I need you to steal something from the circus. I need the October log book."

_Steal?_ Raven gaped a little and then gave a slight grin, she did have a record for being good at that.

With a slight limp Xavier moved into the back of the room. He stopped by the mantel piece. The light did not reach this part of the room. Almost unconsciously, his fingers glided lightly over, a black and white photo ; Control had looked so much younger then. This life made them older than they should be, his gaze flicked quickly back to Mystique.

"Raven, if you are caught," emotion waved in his eyes, he tried again, striving hard for his normal calm, "if you are caught you are on your own. I will not be able to protect you." Raven sipped at the tea trying to hiding her nervousness, her fingers tightened around the triangle-shaped handle of the modern tea-cup. Xavier rested against the mantel a moment. He wanted to hide there in the back where the light did not reach, because he had always wanted to protect Raven from what he did. He spoke to her from the darkness, his eyes meeting hers, "You are welcome to say no. There will be no blotch on your record." _I will not hold this against you. _

"When do you need it?" _Damn it._ She answered without hesitation. The blue eyes flashed at her in the dark.

"Thursday. You have three days." She set the tea-cup down.

_Oh his beautiful Raven._ She was his younger sister. He felt her ambitions and he used them. He returned from the dark, opening the window, grey rain blew in, hitting his clean white shirt. She shivered. Raven turned to leave, stepping forward he took her arm softly guiding her towards the door and what he said next looked like it actually hurt him to say, "Raven, if you have any affairs to get in order, if have anyone you want my help with, now is the time." Amber eyes stilled with brief bright fear, then schooled themselves into cold order, betraying nothing except perhaps to him. _Oh Raven. What had he taught her?  
_

"No, there's no one. Where will I find you?" _To deny love, to lie? To hide in plain sight? _He swallowed his tea_. _

She was only beginning to learn to play this game, Xavier thought; he could see in her eyes a young man a 'Hank?'' But it was good she didn't trust him with her lover's affairs, it would keep her alive. "Bring the documents to the hotel. Sean will drive you." Xavier walked her gently to the door closing it behind her.

He watched her step into a taxi then returned to the room, alone on a table stood the chess pieces Control had left him. Each piece had a face, taped to it. Control had cut out each face with a scalpel. They were the faces of traitors. X looked down at one piece, a steel knight with his own faced stared back, surely not, surely Erik trusted him. In the middle of the board, one black king stood alone. Faded black and white photos stared back at him. A mystery. A challenge.

He could always see, always tell, that's what made him so indispensable. He picked each piece up. Why the bloody hell he couldn't tell now was frustrating. So much like Budapest, he couldn't see then either. Maybe he was getting old. Maybe he didn't have all the pieces yet.

X

She sat with Hank on the bed. He took his thin black tie, buttoned his shirt and left without even looking at her. Mystique sat on a cheap plastic chair, half masked by the darkness. A car door slammed in the distance. She bent forward, a half choked sound left her throat. Tight unwanted tears fell down her face.


	2. Chapter 2

**XxX**** Alignment XxX**

_**1963 Tuesday. The Circus**_

She passed under the imposing Georgian facade with its tall, plain Roman columns and white tableaued pediment. No one in the neighborhood knew the true purpose of the imperial building, or what the plainly dressed people, who came and went did. A government office most would guess no harm in that and most people who crossed the square were too busy to care, but there were whispers, stories and rumors. Beneath the huge statue to the angel Anteros, an old woman black hair watched, as she had for years. Raven barely noticed her; and she would not have noticed the other tramp stooped beside her, except that he whistled cheerfully to himself. Raven smiled to herself, the tramp had been whistling the 'Hippie Hippie Shake' as she passed by and entered the government building.

She breezed through the great over done lobby of the Circus, heels clacking on the marble floor, dressed in the most uninteresting clothes she could find, a dull camel skirt that came down below her knees paired with a plain white top. Raven had a meeting today in the brown room, but first she had typing to do, a favor to Angel who was late. She hoped the day would be as mundane as her clothes. She took her seat with the other women and began to type.

They were all women in the typing pool, not a single exception, a cage of metal and paper. The two doors at the end stood closed, the rooms behind empty, side by side one door for Charles 'Head of Recruitment', one for Erik 'Service Director', they were closed and silent. A warning. With each clack of the typewriter she thought, _want to betray your country? _Clack. _Want to leave the cage little bird? _Clack_, I didn't want to ask you this? _Clack.

"Raven, why you're late for the meeting, I am sure Angel can catch up on her typing later, mmm?" She jumped. _Fuck._ Shaw smiled, "I didn't mean to startle you Raven, is there something you'd like to tell me? Not a lover's tiff I hope?" He grinned, offering his arm as if for a dance, Angel stood a little sheepishly behind him. Raven stood and took Shaw's arm her smiled wobbled a just a bit. _Want to betray your country? _Xavier's voice whispered to her. _  
_

**XxX**** The meeting XxX**

Raven sat at the polished wooden oval table. The table matched the fake wood veneered panels on the wall that gave the room its name. Fake was the latest trend. Sean sat next to her, Stryker and Shaw on the other side, Sean Alex, and Angel at either end. Raven watched Hank. He looked straight through her, without a blink. Raven never thought Hank could do that. Not to her. Charles and Erik were gone. She was alone.

And the table was headed by monsters. Shaw smiled at her, welcoming her to the table. Her skin crawled. She smiled back. Stryker didn't smile at all. "Shall we get down to business? Parliament has given us permission to begin sharing information with the Americans. I've made contact with an American, a Captain Rogers they would like to share in our intelligence."

"Alex, I believe you have your report to present."

Alex, adjusted his thin red tie, awkward in a suit, cleared his throat, before beginning his report on Captain Rogers. Sean shot him a look of confidence.

Raven should have known the day would not be ordinary; this was the seat of power for MI6. This was the Circus and they all had games to play.


	3. Chapter 3

**XxX**** Get Out XxX**

**_1963, last week._**

"Somebody has to pay. Minister Kelly has been on my case about our funding. He all but demanded we table our expenses, Budapest has given us a lot of problems." Stryker observed unkindly. She could almost feel the power pooling in the room. Shaw smiled, ever pleasing, always pleasant. She felt her skin crawl.

"He wouldn't dare to shut us down." Hank said defensively.

"I don't doubt that he would cut our funding, that would cause your division a lot of problems wouldn't it Hank."

"It is my research that is saving your men. We at least are a damn sight further ahead on the nuclear development than the Russians." Hank growled at Colonel Stryker.

Stryker laughed. "Its solid intelligence that's saves men's lives not your little toys." Stryker said with a broad gaffing laugh.

X risked a glance at Control; do you want me to end this? A question. This meeting was so far off track now, but it was Control's meeting, and his choice where or not to end Stryker's attack on Hank. Control just flicked him an angry glance.

"Indeed William. Solid intelligence that I will now table." Shaw stood, and placing pile of brown folders on the table. "Angel, be a dear and pass those out." Hastily Angel put down the minutes she was taking for the meeting, and walked around the table handing out the materials. She'd only just got out of the typing pool; her being at the table at all was an achievement, she put Raven's copy down with a twist of jealousy on her face. Angel had no rich brother to advance her career.

"This is good. It gives us just enough on the Russians." Alex says pursuing the documents Shaw has tabled.

Control scans his copy, and then tosses it down on the table in dismissal, he flicks his eyes to Xavier an eyebrow raised, and Charles glances back with equal amounts of concern. "How did you get this?" Xavier asks Shaw.

"Confidential." Stryker stone walls. Shaw smiles smugly.

"Oh yes Charles they went straight to Kelly himself, and have been given special parliamentary permission to keep the source a secret." Control sounds completely civil, but his smile curls up gently sarcastic. "Well what do you think Charles?" Control asks with some impatience.

X glances down, eyes critically skimming through the document. The title reads 'operation witchcraft'. "It's almost too good to be true. But it confirms what our field agents have been reporting, there is a new group of hardliners in charge in the Kremlin, and they have created a group known to us only as the brotherhood. The head of the brotherhood is an agent known only as Karla. The brotherhood is radical in its approach and poses a new threat to the fragile peace we have established and rules under which we operate. "

"Sounds like a lovely club Xavier," Control said drily looking down the table at Sean, "and what do you think about it young man?"

Sean scanned the document nervously, he is the only one at the table not wearing a suit, he feels the pressure of Erik's glare. "It's clean, it looks good, there's just enough information to make it look genuine. I don't know," he concluded uncertainly. Sean is the youngest member of the Circus, too young Erik had said.

"Xavier's suspicious, Shaw. And not even young Sean here is convinced."

"That Intel is good. It has been used in two of my operations successfully already." Stryker is defensive.

"Then reveal to us your source!" Control grates out.

"No. There's been enough leaked out of here since Budapest. I'll not lose this source too!" Stryker says with burning accusation.

The room erupts into name calling and angry discussion. Shaw does not take part, he watches, just like Charles. Hank's voice is too loud, defending Charles. The room falls silent. Sheepishly he takes his seat again.

"Come come now boys we all appreciate your work down with the nuts and bolts." Shaw begins as the unlikely peacemaker, "but you can't deny a funding cut would affect your work." Shaw lets Hank hang there for a moment and Hank couldn't deny it, even though he looked like he wanted to, less funding would halt the majority of his work. "We can talk about who is responsible for Budapest another time. In fact I believe the home competition would even like to take a look into that little mess Control." Shaw smiled (the home competition meaning MI5), charmingly as he drummed a pen against the witchcraft folder.

"And how would MI5 know our business Sebastian?" Charles asked his voice low. Shaw smiled. And Toad answered, "it's my job to inform the minister."

Shaw cut across Toad who looked annoyed, "and people do have a habit of talking, in fact I was speaking to Mr Harkness over at MI5 just the other day, always keeping up on homeland security..." That was it, that was the final straw. Shaw wasn't allowed to finish.

"Enough! I've heard enough. Get out! All of you." Control said standing, all pretenses at patience gone, as he grounded out each word in his lowest tone, the world of threat in each word. The young ones left quickly, Angel who hadn't said a word all evening, Raven, Alex and Sean had never seen Control so furious nodded their goodbyes to Charles and headed for the door. Stryker stood calmly and walked out, with Shaw who smiled pleasantly, "Good evening gentlemen. Come along Toad." Toad who had enjoyed watching the little power struggle so much, now moved quickly to catch up with Shaw.

"You too Hank." Control said with an almost weary apology, turning his back on the room. Hank left after a nod from X to say that it would be okay. That just left X and Control. Xavier watched Control. His tense shoulders suddenly swung around.

"What do you think Charles?"

"I think Shaw's up to something. As for MI5, I'll speak to Jack and sort it out; he's not one to be led around by Shaw."

"No Jack's not. Damn it Charles. Bloody Shaw!" Control vented a little more. "Find out what it is, Charles I don't want another meeting with that bastard smirking at me without knowing why."

"Somehow, Erik I don't think we will have to wait long."

"It all comes back to Budapest doesn't." Erik's brow crinkled and he bows his head into his hand. Guilty.

Charles puts an arm around Erik's shoulders drawing his face up, he looks into Erik's eye's, "what do you think happened that day Control?"

He looks away from Charles, his eyes are clear and grey when they turn back to Charles, his voice like velvet "a rotten apple."

Erik draws his hands up to the side of Charles' face, searching for a moment. Charles puts his hand behind Erik's head and pulls him forward. Their lips meet. Erik tastes like rich aromatic coffee. Charles tastes sweet like marmalade, and maybe the slightest hint of earl grey. Erik breaks away. Charles feels a little breathless.

"Lock the door." Erik orders softly.

They do something and they never do at work.

Charles can feel it, the desperate edge they are approaching, in the way Erik strips him of his shirt, grasps his arms and drapes him across the table. What they do is rushed, hurried and rough. He kisses Erik gently afterwards, holding him tight, wrapping his arms around him to try to take way that desperate feeling that was coming off Erik in waves.

"A rotten apple" he says softly, almost deadly, in Charles' ear.

Charles shivers.


	4. Chapter 4

XxXBudapest XxX

_Past 1962 October._

Budapest is the city of spas. Xavier has even heard it described as the heart of Europe, old buildings and the Danube cut through the city's heart, cobbled streets that wind their way up to the hills that nestled a rambling castle. Budapest is a happy city, except for the soldiers and the secret police. Old ornate Roman fountains juxtaposed to the strict cold statues erected by the communists to honour the war dead. The war is over, the city is being repaired and there appears to be none of the shortages that plague other communist cities. All of this is lost on Charles. This is dangerous. They have forged papers. Hungry is Russia's pet. MI6 (English) spy's will not be welcome guests. They have entered the country illegally flown in from the coast and sailed in, after a rondevue with a small ferry and successfully traveled up the Danube. Erik has packed a small bag with weapons, and Moira is carrying their radio; Xavier is lugging their small wardrobe. Erik thinks this is immensely funny. They meet up with Logan at dusk on at the city's docks. Unharassed they walk to a small run down flat in the heart of the city.

The flat pushes Xavier's definition of flat. Hovel might have been more appropriate. No running water, holes in the walls, and more importantly no heating. In winter Budapest is cold, very cold. Moira is not impressed; Erik knows it will be cold, but looks around the sparse flat with little concern. Logan laughs at their belly aching, and placated them by starting up a metal stove that sits in the middle of the room. They make coffee, so good it reminds Erik of Germany before the war. Seated and comfortable, getting here has taken them four days of rough traveling, Charles had a longing for tea.

Pleasantries out-of-the-way, they get down to business. "His name is Darwin, he is a Roma, recruited by the Russians and he now works as a secretary to the White Queen. But wait for it Chuck, he's prepared to go double agent,." Logan folds his hands behind his head leans back. "

"The white queen." Moira breathes. She met with her during the war, in France. It was not pretty.

"We gathered that much from your communiqué." Erik comments from the corner with a little impatience, as Charles' fingers entwine with Moira's, imparting comfort under the worn table. Logan is slightly hurt; he had thought he was being at least a little convert in the cypher.

"What are you so worried about?" Xavier asks, releasing Moira's hand.

Logan smiles a slight grimace, no hiding anything from X, ever. Logan pauses before replying, striking a match to light his stoogy, he puffs two long plumes of smoke into the dull room. The white of his teeth show as he speaks, "I am worried that he an't the only one going double." Logan's accent is Canadian and broad. Like Erik he is recruited by the British secret service (Charles), before he can return home from the war. Logan too was part of their team in France, but since the war he has worked mostly over the curtain, running agents in and out. His job has a high degree of risk; he likes it, all cloak and dagger. Daggers are his specialty.

"Who?" Erik this time. He leans towards Logan daring him to name the traitor.

"Wouldn't tell me. Bastard demanded to meet with someone higher up."

"And you brought us here!" X's eyes are flashing at him. Erik and Moira look furious. Logan's led them into a trap.

"I know I know chuck, it's bad either way but he did say one thing," Logan taps out some of his cigar onto the floor before continuing, his eyes narrow beneath the bushy brows as he looks Xavier right in the eye, "the Russian agent works at the Circus. So I figured I'd tell you in person and then you could decide yourselves." He smiles with his cigar crammed into the corner of his mouth, happy to, as they say to pass the buck on that one.

"You should have tied the little SOB to a post and sent him to England, Logan." Moira is not impressed. She stands and leaves the table.

"As much as I love sending care packages home to you all, Moira, he's Roma, there aren't too many of them here now (the Soviets have rounded them up and sending them on to their gulags), but if I attacked one of their own I'd lose them, they're a tight-knit bunch, and without them they'd make my work here much more difficult. The Roma runs this town and for now I like to count them as friends."

Charles' red lips cannot help but smile for all James's courage and daring he still liked to keep things as black and white as possible, loyal as ever, God help him if he ever had to betray anyone. Xavier was almost jealous of Logan and his simplicity. "Where does he want to meet?" Xavier wants in, he speaks each word with slow relish considering the situation. A game , he likes games. Erik too has a small cold smile on his lips as he watched Charles change from bumbling professor to spy master. They had been playing games for such a long time now.

Logan nods, acknowledging Charles' interest. "There is a little café up in the hills, near the castle. I've met with him there before. But Charles, listen before you decide," Logan's grey eyes narrow again beneath his bushy eyebrows, "the café is in a deadly bloody lane. One way in one way out. Apartments wall the street and it ends with an eight foot high wall." They digest this pleasant piece of information with mutual frowns. Moira returns to sit beside Charles.

"But you've been there?" Charles continues.

"Gave me the creeps X."

If it gave Logan the creeps the place must be a picnic, Charles considers his empty cup a moment before asking his next question. "Do you think he's telling the truth?"

All of them hold their breath. Xavier eyes him critically. Logan considers his answer, he knows the weight Charles will give to his opinion.

"Yes I do. The guy seems to be on the level. Scared out of his mind. Wouldn't even talk for my knife trick." Erik and Logan invent the knife trick that Logan refers to, together during the war, just for Emma after she captures and tortures Moira.

"So it's a bloody trap. A dead-end, walled both sides and an enemy agent we don't know. The agent who is promising to give you the world Logan if you just lead someone else, preferably someone with more rank than you Logan into a nice street with no escape." Moira says, both sarcastic and fuming.

"When does he want to meet?" Charles continues ignoring her a little. Logan smiles. Erik does too, but for a different reason.

"Tuesday morning ten o'clock."

"Very civilized of him." Logan laughs outright "Yes. Might even get yourself a pot of tea X."

"Well if it's a chance to get a decent cup of tea, I'd say it's totally worth risking all our lives." They laugh, Charles did actually smuggle tea in with him.

"It's a chance, to get at the queen and clean out the Circus." Erik is for it. Moira against it. Charles is not sure. "Yes, but..."

"Is it worth getting shot over?" Moira cuts off Charles mid-sentence her brown eyes pierce his critically for a moment. Worried.

Logan interrupts:

"We can go running into a trap, get shot at and possibly find a traitor; or you can leave here now go back to your nice safe offices at the Circus and forget all about this. And you can sit around your precious table with your tea and share all of your hard work with Russia." Logan stubs out his cigar, he has been to the Circus once long ago, he has been at the damn table and had tea. X can remember the date and wonders if maybe he has left Logan out here alone for too long. "Let me know by tomorrow if you want in, or out." James nods and leaves quickly, before he has closed the door the argument has begun.

They put the decision to a vote, even though Erik actually out ranks them, because this plan risks all of their lives and they are friends. In the end Charles sides with Erik, and Moira, they have only been married a short time; Moira wants to kill Erik on the spot there and then. They argue the plan back and forth. In the end it comes back to the Circus. Home. If home is not safe, nobody is safe. The neighbours of the flee-infested flat think there is a domestic.

In the morning, Erik meets Logan at the door sporting a black eye, thanks to Moira Logan guesses. She throws a fabulous right hook. "Get your gear Logan." He orders. Logan wisely reserves any comments.


	5. Chapter 5

XxX It'll all be tea and bickies XxX

They hike up into the hills that night. Logan has spent a few weeks checking the location, but he is glad for the cover of darkness as they approach the building on the narrow the street. This apartment would give them cover for the next day.

Moira likes this apartment: it has geraniums growing from a small balcony that looked down onto the street, a comfortable bed, chairs and more importantly hot showers. Luxury. Or it would be a luxury if Logan wasn't sharpening his six deadly blades and Erik wasn't silently assembling weapons. Typical and true to form Charles was cooking. X had a weapon, but his opinion was that if it actually came down to shooting, well you weren't a very good spy anyway, and he'd rather talk his way out. In France this had saved their lives a couple of times, speaking French helped out of course. Charles didn't speak Hungarian, but Logan did, Erik spoke polish and they all had serviceable German and Russian. German and French were still pretty common. Moira could speak fluent Russian on top of the three languages the others spoke, Moira also could translate the Russian code; Moira was head of the service communications. Language at least was not going to be not an issue. Xavier finished making the sauce, glancing at Erik's compact semi-automatic, black and gleaming sitting idly on the lounge. Charles made pasta and invited the others to eat.

They ate in their own spaces with little conversation, plans lingering like threats in their minds. Outside someone was playing a guitar, simply, but beautifully. Charles said something to Moira in French, she giggled. Smiling he put aside the pasta. Their eyes lock.

"You don't mind if we…?" He indicates the only bedroom.

."Knock yourselves out bub." Logan lights another cigar.

Erik drifts out to the landing to smoke his face carefully neutral.

_X_

_Later_

Logan is quiet; he has a small glass of Canadian whiskey in his hand. Charles brought it for him. Moira is as sleep in the other room, Erik too is asleep. He nods to Logan and goes out for fresh air.

The guitar is still playing. Charles looks for its source. There is a taxi parked on the side of the street, inside a young man with red hair is stretched out in the front seat. He stands in the doorway and listens some more. He is sure the boy is playing something Irish. There is no one else in the street. Charles cannot resist.

"That's quite a talent you've got there." Charles says openly in English. A huge risk but he suspects from the melody that the boy is from somewhere in the west.

"You want a ride somewhere Mr?" The boy looks about fifteen. "Don't get many English tourists around here?"

"Don't get many Irish taxi drivers either." Charles counters with a small smile. The boy startles, his accent he had thought pretty well hidden. He eyes the Englishman warily. "Are you sleeping out here?" Charles takes in the boy's appearance: his clothes are worn out; he has no jacket, the boy must be freezing.

"Yes." The boy is even more defensive now. Where was the boy's family, an Irish kid in the middle of Hungary? There was more to that story. He appraised the boy one more time, noting that his skin has goosebumps and his red hair has not been brushed. Homeless Charles concludes. Alone. The boy has hair two shades lighter than his sisters. "Here," Charles says taking off his coat and pushing it into the cab. The boy jumps and moves backwards in the seat, as Charles passes the wool coat forward. "Take it, you're cold." He says gently.

"No thanks." The urchin says, but fingers the material it is warm and finely woven, it is expensive looking. "People will think I stole it."

"Cut some holes in it; patch it they'll never know." The boy thinks about it. Charles can see the child badly wants to take it.

"What do you want in return?" The boy is not naïve; many people have ridden in his taxi. Accepting gifts from Rich older men implied a certain kind of transaction that the boy would not deal in. But the man doesn't look like that kind, his face is too open, and his smile too real. The man looks almost as if he is having fun.

"I want nothing." Charles is surprised for a moment and then realizes the boy will not take it for nothing. "Keep it as payment for your song, my wife and I enjoyed quite a lot." He grins to himself, and then thinks of how that song drew him into the street. "Though if I were you I'd learn something a little more local."

The boy feels afraid again, but he nods as if it is wise advice. "I didn't know anyone was listening."

"In these times, there is always someone listening." The man's eyes are a little sad, but he smiles quickly again, "that I suppose is normally a good thing for a budding musician."

"That's not a fair trade. If you're really a tourist maybe I could give you a ride somewhere." Charles has grown more aware of the time and without his coat, the cold as well, he should go back in. He thinks about tomorrow. The young man watches the other's face change it becomes more serious, and almost worried. He seems older again.

"I don't need a ride anywhere," Charles hesitates, he shouldn't ask. Shouldn't have anything more to do with this kid least he get drawn into the danger.

"Is there something I can help you with? I could show you where all the best spas are? I used to do it a lot you know, but we an'it had tourists here in a long time." The boy eyes him thoughtfully, from behind his mop of red hair and green eyes.

Charles leans closer to the car keeping his voice low, "haven't 'erm you seen anyone a bit out of place around here lately?"

The boy's eyes go round. In his mind the boy has given the small English man a new name: spy. A nice spy though, he thinks. "I saw a man with a cigar and a lot of side burns come up here a couple of days ago." Logan, Charles smiles on the inside, James should shave off those handle bars of his they were too distinctive.

"Anyone else odd?"

"Only you." Charles is relieved and grins outright at the jest, the boy grins back. Charles pulls back from the cab. He has to go; he likes this kid very much. "You gunna be around tomorrow mister?"

Tomorrow. Tomorrow could be very dangerous for this boy if he is sitting here in this cab and things go wrong. "You know what my dear minstrel; tomorrow's a good day to go down to the city." The green eyes go very serious. The boy has gotten the hint. He watches the man as he leaves, he is small and unassuming, against the apartment walls bathed in moonlight.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N posting in honor of the rain and the future, that always freaks me out.

**X Tomorrow X**

Moira sets up the portable radio with care, she tests the equipment carefully. The radio uses a special signal and will communicate along a short wave relay back to England if they need it. Erik has gone still with a deliberate kind of calm. They've all made this decision together, but he's responsible for how it will go down. Each of them knows their parts; he's made sure of it. The tension between them all is palpable. Erik drops a hand gun into Charles' pocket.

"Just in case."

"Fine." He shivers.

Logan meets them at 9.45 am.

"Ready?" Charles asks.

Logan flashes his knives from under his wrists. "Nice suit."

Charles is wearing a completely white cotton suit and a fedora. For his cover as a tourist it is fine, as an outfit well, he looked like someone's lost grandfather.

"Erik has already commented," he says dryly.

X

The two of them head down the stairs and walk out into the street. The day is sunny and warm. They walk easily up the cobbled street. There are people going about their business, an old woman is hanging out washing that is stretching across the lane. The café is busy. A mother and her child, she wears a floral pattern dress and orders coffee.

Erik waits till they have gone down the street a little way, before he takes up a position with his rifle on the balcony. Erik scans the street looking for anything amiss. The old woman's washing gets in his way and he repositions. Down the road he can see a black beaten up cab, but that had been there the night before Erik is not worried about it. He checks again, using the rifle's sight to zero in on Charles. Moira moves from behind the radio, she has been scanning for enemy communications, for any hint that they are betrayed. She hears nothing usable. Moira glances nervously out the window, Erik gives her a nod. He hasn't seen anything either. She returns to the radio slowly moving the dial over the frequencies normally favoured by the enemy. All she can all detect is static.

"That's him that's our man." Logan says in a low growl. Xavier examines the man waiting at the table: a rough beige suit and a hat pulled down low over his face, black sunglasses disguising his eyes, younger than he expected. The target is holding a tiny espresso cup in his hand; he looks most exotic, even though he's trying not to attract attention. Logan breathes an inward sigh of relief when they sit down and order. Charles gets his wish and orders tea. There are two waiters, one was neat tidy, sweaty and, obviously just out of the kitchen. The other smaller man carried a carafe of water out to another the table . The sweaty waiter, comes over to their table to take their order, Charles notices he wears a red carnation in his breast pocket . He explains in Hungarian that they offer a range of teas including a Bergamot orange variety similar to earl grey. X is suitably impressed. Logan orders coffee and toast.

They greet each other with casual nods. Nobody speaks until the orders arrive."Parlez Vous Francais ?"The young man asks softly. Charles nods. The target continues and explains, that it is best they talk in French so that they are neither overheard nor suspected. Logan sighs and eats his toast noisily; he never got the hang of French. He listens to Charles and the double agent speak. He knows Charles has used that language to get girls; it rolls off his tongue pleasantly. The agent finishes his espresso, and puts the cup down. They have yet to speak of anything important except to swap names; an usual request, most agents prefer to keep their identities secret.

"My name", the younger man says in wooden French, "is Darwin."

"Charles."

Logan almost drops his coffee. Logan gives Charles a 'what the hell looks?' Charles doesn't look at him and just continues to smile at the agent across the table. "Now we can trust each other. If you wrong me I can tell the brotherhood you name, and you can do the same to me." Charles nods acknowledging the street smarts of the young gypsy.

"And what is a young man like yourself doing behind the iron curtain?"

"You mean a black man?" Charles won't have put it so bluntly. "I am black yes, but also Roma. My family is big..." Darwin smiles widely, takes a sip from his espresso, and laughs from beneath his hat, "I adapt to survive... You would not believe the things I can do. Or the things I know."

"And what is it that you know?" Xavier poses the question softy , like a purr, his full gaze directed at the gypsy.

Darwin fidgets with his coffee cup. "People and things I wish I did not. That governments are not to be trusted. That I need to get out of here." The smile drops away from his face. To X, he is young and afraid, with too many secrets.

"Tell me. A name." _Trust me,_ he wills.

"If I tell you will you protect me and my friends?" Darwin hesitates.

Xavier looks away he is tempted to lie to the gypsy; a simple yes would have been the safest course of action. But he goes with his instincts. The truth. "I can't promise that, if you want out of here we could do that. Give you a new life in England. But that can only begin if you tell me the agent's name."

Darwin makes a choice. He feels he can trust him. Darwin leans forward, and opens his mouth to speak.

Logan notices the waiter who is sweating a lot more, move. Logan feels the hair on the back of his neck lift up. Charles picks up his teacup. Logan sees a flash in the corner of his eye and throws his weight towards Charles, sweeping them both to the ground.

The crockery and table-cloth fall off the table with them. The white crockery smashes, as Logan's blades impale the waiter. Darwin staggers backwards, trying to pull out his weapon. The smaller waiter shoots wildly, a barrage of bullets. Two bullets lodge themselves in Darwin's head and he sags to the ground. Xavier watches the young eyes roll skyward; gently he reaches across and closes them. Behind them a baby screams, the mother's head lolls to the side, protectively, some how the baby still rests in her arms. A bullet gone astray. Charles looks at the dead woman, shocked for a second. Logan drags him up and pushes him down the alley. They run.

Moira packs up the gear and is rapidly down the stairs; Erik doesn't want to give up his perch. He covers their retreat. He takes out a man shooting from a balcony. Gun shots ring out of the flat, as Moira kills a man on the stairs.

"Erik!" She calls out a warning before running down stairs and into the ally. Running to Charles.

Erik can see flashes of a rifle across the way, but the shooter is being hidden by the washing. Cursing Erik tries to find a different angle. The other rifle fires three more times. Wind blows through the white of the sheets. Got you Erik thinks and fires. Erik's talent is that he never misses. Erik hears a scream. He looks down to the ally. It's Moira. Charles and Logan are lying face down in the street. They are not moving. Erik runs. He kills three more men at close range. Moira is already in the street. Erik keeps his weapon up and covers them. Charles is trying to get Logan to move.

"James!" Xavier rolls the bigger man over. There are three gun shots in his back.

"Hey X." Logan says softly.

"Come on stand up." Charles puts James' arm over his shoulder. "You have to."

Logan grunts, staggers up right, and Xavier tries to take his weight. They collapse and Charles realizes he has been shot in the leg. He cries out as he falls. It hurts. Charles crawls to Logan.

"Charles!" Someone is screaming at him.

There are more bullets flying over his head. They need to go.

"Charles!" Moira is screaming at him. He can hear the rapid retort of Erik's weapon. The light is leaving Logan's eyes.

"Run X." Logan whispers.

But he can't run. He holds James head until the light leaves his eyes.

Moira drags him to his unsteady feet and retreats toward Erik. Erik takes his weight from the other side. Together they hold Charles between them and run as fast as they can down the cobbled street. Charles puts his head down and tries hard not to fall. Erik has shot or killed the agents that waited in the alley. But that is not who they are running from. Soon. Too soon. They hear it. Whistles and shouting: the sounds of the local police. A lot of police.

They almost trip over the red-headed kid who stands in their way.

"Hello Gov, thought you might need a ride today."`

Erik just blinks. Moira is trying hard to get back her breath, but she can see the boy is wearing Charles coat. Charles raises his head at the voice, and gives a weak chuckle, "A ride? A ride would be super."

"Who the hell is that Charles?" Erik demands.

"I'm Sean." The boy answers Erik with a lopsided smile.


	7. Chapter 7

XxX Ride XxX

Sean takes them to his taxi that is parked conveniently around the corner from the alley. They bundle into the cab quickly.

"Drive slow," Erik cautions, "we don't want to attract any attention." Sean obeys and drives calmly through the outskirts of the town.

"Where do you want to go?" Sean looks to Charles who is lying across the backseat with Moira. They have tied Charles's jacket around the wound in his leg. The linen suit is definitely ruined Charles muses, but it seems to have slowed the bleeding.

"What do you think?" He opens the question up to the others, he feels tired.

"We need to get the hell out of here fast. We should head down to the docks, radio London, find Logan's contact and get on the boat out of here." Moira speaks quickly and not without emotion. Her voice breaks on Logan's name. Charles squeezes her hands as he rests his head against her.

"The docks will take you into the heart of the city." Sean replies following their train of thought.

Erik, who sits next to Sean in the front, rifle in hand, was quiet. Sean is a little terrified.

"We need to lay low for a bit." Charles admits.

"Get us out of the city boy." Erik decides.

"The country sides then, forest are always lovely this time of year." Sean says with a smile

XxX country side XxX

Budai Tájvédelmi Körzet, is a large dense green forest on the outskirts of Hungary. Sean takes them on to quiet back roads and avoids any road blocks. The road changes to dirt.

"Where are you taking us?" Erik asks suspiciously

"Körzet forest. There's a hunting lodge up here. It's pretty rough, but no one ever uses it. I come up here sometimes."

X

The lodge is a single room, a bed a stove, a cabinet, a deer's head on the wall and a kitchen sink. It's basic but completely serviceable. "People come up here in spring. They hunt the deer and the wild pigs. But they are out of season now so we should be fine."

Moira and Erik help Charles onto the bed, who lays back with a little groan. His leg is bleeding again and the blood has soaked his trouser leg red. Sean thinks the man looks pale now. The woman sitting beside him must be his wife; Sean decides noticing the two small rings on her fingers. The quiet one who sat in the front has come back from the car, carrying his rifle and the radio. "Get the stove started, boy."

"I'm Sean." He reminds the man.

"Erik. And do as I say." The man is unloading his gun. The boy shrugs, hiding his fear and starts trying to get the old stove to work. Sean goes completely still, when Erik draws out his knife. Bone handled and serrated at the tip. He smiles at the boy, the smile is straight and unfriendly, before walking over to Charles. Sean busied himself getting the fire started.

Erik looks at Moira. "We need to clean the wound and stop the bleeding." She nods.

"Charles my friend, this may hurt a bit."

"Oh joy."

"Hang on Lehnsherr." Moira takes off her scarf wets it some water from the sink. He takes the knife and splits open the trousers up to the thigh. Charles thinks about making some sort of innuendo laden joke, but can't when Moira takes of the makeshift bandage, presses down on the wound. Sean hovers nearby. He's never seen anyone shot.

"How is it?" Charles asks without trying to sit up.

"It's through the knee. And you've picked up a bit of dirt in it." Erik shows Moira. There's bone and blood poking out of the kneecap. The fragments of bone will make it awkward to bandage cleanly.

"We're going to clean it, and Charles I want to pick out some of the bits of dirt ok?" He means bone.

"Sounds fun," Charles can already guess what Erik means by dirt, knowing he'd bled too much for there to be any dirt.

"Yes it's going to jolly." Erik says sarcastically, looking at Charles with concern. "Get some water for us kid." Mutely the red head obeys.

Erik pours the water over the wound, ignoring Charles, who cry's out, Moira grabs his hand, _it will be alright_, Erik takes out his knife. Charles faints, after the first bone fragment is removed. Erik flicks out the rest as well as he can. He doesn't dare try more there's blood everywhere. They bandage the leg and stop the bleeding. He washes his knife off in the sink. Moira sags down into the chair besides Charles. Her head in her hands. Erik looks at them, softly almost, and walks outside. He finds the red-head cleaning blood from his car seat, and smoking weed.

"I have to go," Sean says nervously extinguishing the cigarette; he wanted to have this conversation with the woman. Erik looks at him unmoved. The boy represents a risk. "The cab's not mine. If I don't have enough in fares and cash I get in trouble. " The boy says explaining. He's seen all their faces. Worse he knows their real names. Sean backs away from the car as Erik raises his gun. "I can help you OK. Let me go and I'll be quiet I promise."

"Erik!" Moira glares at him from the doorway, and gives a calculating smirk. "Let him help us. You can always shoot him later." Damn it Sean thinks. He thought he had an ally in the female. Moira goes back in. But it is a victory; Sean thinks and gives the man another grin. Erik just smiles back. The boy whitens a bit and looks away quickly. Deliberately not making eye contact, he takes the jacket from the back of the car, walks past Erik and goes inside to Charles.

The little Englishman is still unconscious. Red blood has soaked into the mattress, the woman is holding his hand. The red-head blinked recognizing they both wore rings, they were married. The bed has no blankets. He puts the black coat over Xavier. Moira gives him a small tired smile, "thank you."

"Will he be okay?"

"I think so."

"Boy, get out here." Erik calls Sean outside

X

He finds Erik looking at him from the side of the building.

Erik is smiling at him again, Sean is worried.

"We need to do some shopping."

X

Shopping by Erik's standards involves break and enter. Erik has Sean direct him to a local pharmacy.

"No. Mister, look if you're hiding from the police and you steal morphine they will know it was you."

Erik knows this; he drums his long fingers on the side of the steering wheel, perhaps the only indication he is anxious, as he explains the obvious, "our mutual friend will be in a great deal of pain when he wakes, Sean and we need to be able move him."

"I know someone who can get you morphine." Sean replies with quiet daring.

"Same place you get your hash?" Sean nods. Erik knew he could deal with the street thugs by force if he had to, he considers, "How do you know they won't just tell the police anyway?"

"I'll make the deal, I'll tell them it's for a lady friend of mine. They'll believe me."

"In with the ladies are you boy?" Lehnsherr raises one eyebrow.

"No not like that. Sometimes, sometimes ladies here who don't want to keep their … babies… go to a doctor… he gives them ..." Erik cuts the kid off, he had no need to hear any more details. "And you work for this doctor sometimes?"

"Yes." Sean replies reluctantly, he only worked with the old doctor out of fear.

"Could we get him to help Charles do you think?"

"No. I won't take my dog to that man. " Sean shudders. They call him the herr doktor, the man had everyone thinking he was a NAZI, behind his back. "But I could get the morphine."

"When?"

"Now if you like? They own my taxi anyway. Oh god I haven't got the fare." The boys starts in sudden terror.

"Here" Lehnsherr deposits a couple of notes into his hands.

"Um, thanks. Should be alright anyways, Alex is on tonight and he's my mate. Oh these guys they're roma you know, so they don't like it, um, if you speak German, reminds them of the war."

"No one forgets what the NAZI did." The boy wonders, he had thought with a name like Erik, he would be German.

X

They meet the boy's supplier outside a taxi depot. The contact could be no more than 19, at best, rusting blond hair and very ordinary blue eyes. Not like Charles, Erik thinks in a very private part of his mind. What is surprising is that the boy is American, and speaks terrible Russian. He begins to speak frantically to the other kid, and they return to whispered English. "This is my mate he's Alex". Sean is so open. But the other boy is more cautious, he looks Erik up and down. Alex raises a gun.

"You're dangerous."

"So are you." The answer is a complement. Erik smiles small with just the edges of his teeth, before he lunges forward and disarms the kid. Movements sharp and efficient. The machine gun is now in Erik's hands, aimed at the two young thugs. "You need to learn to control that weapon before you point it at someone." Alex curses still not backing down, he draws a small pocket knife.

Sean steps in between them.

"Alex please listen, don't, he was with the wolfman." Charles, Erik thinks, would have won this lost boy over without a fight. Unfortunately for the kids he is not Charles. He cocks the weapon. "Give me the morphine, and no one will get hurt."

"You worked with the guy with the sideburns and the hair didn't you?" Erik doesn't move. The other reconsiders, the knife falling to his side. " I heard your man bit the big one. So you must really need this shit. So I'll give you the morphine, if you take us back to England with you."

"You're not really in a position to bargain with me now." He almost laughs. He'll put them in the back of the car, bury them in the forest.

"All I have to do is scream mister and all the goons in that taxi rank I'll be out here." Sean replies carefully, not missing the murder in the others eyes.

Erik looks at them both, he could shoot them where they stand, they wouldn't really have time to scream, or he could tell a little white lie and avoid the risk.

"Alright." Erik smiles to himself and thinks Xavier would be almost proud of him at this moment.

Later dosed on a decent amount of morphine Charles meets them both, and is sentimentally touched by their loyalty to Logan. After a few conversations both Sean and Alex are made part of the British secret service. Moira calls to London; on a night that Charles knows only Hank will be on the communication board. Hank and Hank alone, he tells her before falling into a drugged fevered sleep.

Erik gets them back into the country unscathed.

They live.

They never find the traitors.


	8. Chapter 8

_**XxX The mason's arms. XxX**_

_A/N__bars are sometimes called 'a hole in the wall'. This one's more like a hole in the floor. Drag yourselves back to London to a dank forgotten pub in outer SoHo. The dust has barely settled, business usual almost for our heroes and their enemies. The events of last year hang over them like a cloud._

_**Tuesday night 1963 now.**___

Erik adjusted his fedora and folded his trench coat over his arm. As the head of MI6 he had access to certain resources. Certain resources that could solve specific problems. Such said resources were best kept secret from Charles. Or at least left politely unmentioned. Erik walked down the wet slimy stairs of the into the below ground pub. A row of booths with tacky faded fake velvet red curtain hugged the wall. The only view the windows offered were of people's feet as they passed by on the sidewalk above. Cigarette smoke hung in the air, and a TV beside the bar, flicked black and white with an old football game (soccer). The barkeeper, was a tall black man with one long lock of white hair, he eyed Magneto with suspicion as he entered the bar.

"Don't get many of your sort around here." The bar keeper drawled in a South African accent. Magneto ignored the man, as he scanned the bar.

"We'll gov What'll it be?" He looked down at his watch, the mark was late.

"How 'bout a pint." The bar keeper sauntered over to the keg.

"Make it two, there." A huge man lumbered into the bar.

They sat down in a booth. The large man cramped into the small space.

"So what can I do for you?"

Erik pushed a photo across the table, "The usual."

The taller man studied the face uncertainly. "He's a big fish 'im. Isn't he? Works for your lot." The man's tone became specious, was Erik trying to trick him into something?

Erik stood to leave. "You'll receive the usual the usual compensation, the details for you are unimportant. This man is your target."

"Arh now, hang on, I think I might be needing a bit more this time..."

Erik walked out of the booth not acknowledging the other, apart from his 'compensation' , Erik had enough evidence on the man, that would ensure the roughneck's cooperation. The next part of his plan was cruel, he would hurt Charles, he was sure of that. Erik hoped Charles would understand, why it had to be done.


	9. Chapter 9

XxXThe Young Ones XxXX

_Wednesday. 1963. Circus: Brown room._

"Here here! Time for the young ones to have a go." Alex said with a laugh. Col. William Stryker certainly looked amused. Xavier watches him. Sean made eyes at Alex. Alex is back from overseas rotation for a few days.

"I hear those spa's have Roman perks."

"Oh you're one to talk Hank"

"I believe your nick name is Beast in the bedroom is it not?"

The room tittered with ribald jokes. Even Erik joined in a bit, Xavier and Shaw they just watched, calmly quietly, Mystique could feel the lines being drawn. This laughter, even this was a test. Mystique quickly complemented Sean on his flamboyant choice of type of tie, in this game even laughter could be full of knives. She found it thrilling. The mood in the room sobered.

Shaw stood up to make his report. "More seriously, now boys. Oh I am sorry ladies too." He flirts with an easy grin to Mystique and Angel. Angel flirts back. Mystique gives him a perfect fake smile, with her brilliant white teeth, her golden eyes reveal nothing. Shaw cannot get a read on her expression, it annoys him as much as it intrigues him. He continues his speech without missing a beat. "Our funding goes before the house for approval next week. Minister Kelly advises me that funding approval will not be given unless we can demonstrate, and these are the minister's words not mine, 'results, not scandals.' Gentlemen we need to change what we do, witchcraft has given us results. Budapest left nothing but mess. I say it is time for new blood in the team." Shaw makes his challenge staring straight at Erik.

"And by new blood you mean?" Erik asks in a low tone.

"That old should make way for the new."

"Shaw, you're the oldest out of all of us are you proposing to retire?" Sean says with a laugh and an easy smile that falls flat into the power vacuum in the room. Mystique feels her heart skip a beat. Angel has stopped taking notes.

"What are you proposing Sebastian?" Xavier asks his tone careful.

"That it is time to talk about Budapest."

Raven wonders if she will finally hear the full story, Charles only ever spoke in bits and pieces to her about that place during his recovery.

"Someone must be held responsible." Stryker chimed in from across the table.

"Who was in charge that day?" Shaw says quietly.

Icily calm green eyes scanned the room. No one spoke. He smiled. Nodded to Charles and turned back to Shaw. Smooth. Threatening. "I was. Budapest was my affair. I alone bear that responsibility, nobody else." Not Charles, Mystique realizes, Erik is trying to protect her brother. Xavier looks like he wants to argue. Control silences him with a flash of his grey eyes, guilt flicks through them. No, Charles thinks violently, don't you bloody do it. Erik gives him a look of apology as he stands and walks over to Shaw.

"You want new blood? Take it." Erik leans forward. He is close to Shaw. New blood does not mean new team members. The air has been sucked out of the room, and once tacit divisions now alarmingly clear.

Mystique shifts uncomfortably in her seat. There were rumors about how much blood was on Erik's hands. Shaw on the other hand, just the way he smiled, the way the energy in the room changed when he spoke, even though Mystique didn't know what he'd done, she got the feeling that Erik might be nothing compared to Shaw. And now Erik was offering up the Circus to him. Shaw smiled. "Though it's not for me to take," he glances at Xavier, "I will happily serve as leader in your retirement Control."

Erik laughed. "I am sure you will."

They had run out of time. This had blown up in their faces faster than they had expected. Xavier knew things about Shaw. He had dirt on Shaw. Not enough, and not information they could use now. He looked away from Erik. This was his defeat too.

Erik glided out of the room. Tall and lean, he cut a powerful figure even in defeat. Xavier stood and leaned against the table, he looked across at Shaw; he stared at Stryker, his eyes lit with undisguised fury. Shaw leaned back in his seat, bathing in Xavier's glare.

"And what about you Xavier, want to be a member of my team or are you feeling the creep of age too?" Raven was going to speak, but Xavier cast his storm filled glance at her and she flinched, her words dying on her lips. Charles took his cane and limped out of the room. He put his hand on the back of Mystique's chair, as he went, trying to reassure her, trying to reassure himself, because he knew he was leaving his sister in a room full with vipers. But he had to, if she left with him now, they'd try to strike at her as well.

Mystique watched Charles follow Erik out of the room and suddenly felt afraid as she looked around the table. Stryker, Shaw, Angel and Alex. They all sat near each other. Shaw made her skin crawl. But Alex. Couldn't be. With them, could he?

She looked at the other men across the room: this would be grand, they laughed, and part of her wished she had gone with Charles.


End file.
